Barb Hendee - Dhampir

Leesil hesitated only for a blink. There was no other way to be certain no one followed them, and perhaps he'd get lucky and burn those creatures to death. Either way, he didn't care anymore about the cost of lost livelihoods and merchant tallies-not with what this had cost Magiere.

He sprinkled the oil lightly over the rug and the trapdoor. He splashed the couches as well, lit each and the rug, and then ran out the door. He paused in his flight only to splash the walls here and there with a light stain of oil, until the flask ran out. When he reached the enormous warehouse floor, Brenden was waiting for him between the piles of crates arranged for shipping or retrieval by some local merchant.

Leesil glanced quickly around and spotted a stack of cloth bundles. Brenden's eyes opened wide as Leesil set the torch on top of the stack.

"We're out," Leesil said flatly. "Let's find a door."

Brenden looked at the slowly catching cloth and the smoke streaming out of the hallway. "Over here," he snapped angrily.

Leesil followed as Brenden led the way to a plain, ordinary-looking door. It was barred from the inside, and so likely not the exit used by the workers leaving at the end of the day. Leesil lifted the bar and threw it aside, kicking the door open.

Once outside, Leesil saw Chap was panting, weak with exhaustion and numerous small wounds. He stooped down and lifted the dog in his arms. Except for his face, Leesil was unhurt but weary. The strength of panic and anger was draining out of him.

"I know little about healing," Leesil said. "We have to find them some help quickly."

Brenden looked at him, sadness and anger trading places across his face. "My home. You'll all be safer there."

After Brenden laid Magiere on his own bed and covered her with a blanket, his hands began to shake and he could not stop them. Leesil ripped sheets into strips and then attempted to slow the bleeding from Magiere's neck wound by using the strips as bandages. She'd been cut from one side of the neck halfway to the other. Brenden didn't know how or why she was still alive, but he had no doubt she was dying. Did Leesil know?

Chap lay just as still as Magiere, on a rug near the bed, breathing uneasily.

Brenden's small one-room cottage was built out back of his stable and forge. Once, this house had been a warm, comforting place filled with his sister's humming and the smell of baking bread. Eliza had loved candles, and he often brought her wax and oil scents from the market so that she could make her own. She was not beautiful at first sight, a bit on the thin side with plain, mouse-brown hair. But he always knew she'd one day leave him for her own husband. Her beauty was evident in other ways. Her hazel eyes had laughed at his jokes, and she exuded that cheerfulness so many men sought in a woman. She kept the house neat, helped him with work in the shop, and cooked fine meals. What man wouldn't want her? She could not, should not, spend her life caring for an older brother. Though he had no interest in marriage himself, he was well prepared for the day that she would many and leave him to raise a family of her own.

But that morning, that terrible morning when he found her by the wood stack changed something inside him.

Eliza was small and fragile, not like this fierce woman who now lay dying in his bed. Eliza could not fight for herself, and he'd failed to protect her, even after the news of so many disappearances reached their ears. They liked their home and their smith's business and chose to ignore the whispers and rumors. After all, nothing bad had ever happened to them.

And now she was gone. There would be no husband or children, and he felt no joy from having destroyed her killers. Rather, he sat on his bed, watching a vampire hunter die.

Brenden did not know how to assist, and his hands wouldn't stop shaking. He thought he should feel satisfaction, that a circle had been closed. But he didn't. Nothing about this night was as he had imagined.

The face of the filthy urchin called Ratboy kept flashing in front of him, emaciated and savage. Had this creature been the one to murder his sister? Perhaps it had been the tall one who looked noble. Or maybe the woman. Brenden closed his eyes and then opened them quickly as darkness only made Ratboy's features more clear.

Leesil finished his bandaging and then put his fingers inside Magiere's mouth.

"Her teeth are normal," he said.

Brenden was confused by the comment. What did that mean?

"She's dying, Leesil. She should have been dead before we left the warehouse."

The half-elf's head jerked up. "Are you going to find us some help or not?"

"This is beyond Miiska's healers."

Leesil sucked in an angry breath. The long scratches on his face hadn't completely stopped bleeding yet.

"She's not going to die. Think! Someone must be able to help her."

"I can," a quiet voice said from across the room.

Brenden turned in surprise, fist clenched, expecting to find something had escaped the burning warehouse and tracked them to his home. Instead, an elegant, middle-aged man with white temples stood in the open doorway. The fine fabric of his long cloak suggested wealth and culture.

"Welstiel?" Leesil asked, more a statement than a question. "Can you help?"

"If you'll do as I say."

"Anything," Leesil answered quickly. "I'll do anything."

Somewhere outside in the distance, Brenden heard shouts and ringing bells. The townsfolk had been roused with the alarm and would now be scurrying to put out the warehouse fire. He experienced a stab of guilt. Although he agreed with Leesil's decision, many people's lives would be affected for the worse.

Down on the beach, past moonrise, one smooth side of the seashore bank exploded outward, shattering any illusions of peace the night still contained.

Rashed crawled out of the narrow hole, more earth breaking away from its edges as he carefully pulled Teesha after him. Years ago, he'd arranged for this secret tunnel that reached from the caves below the warehouse all the way into one of the caves along the bottom of the sea cliffs. The entrance was quite small and almost completely covered by sand. No one had ever tried entering the cave from the outside, so he'd pushed through the sand barrier from the inside and emerged into open air.

The beach was only a short drop below, but he was injured and nearly exhausted. He held Teesha tightly with his good arm and jumped down, landing on his feet.

"It's all right," he said, laying her in the sand. "I'll find blood soon."

She nodded and even smiled at him, but he knew the slash from Magiere's falchion had frozen Teesha's body from the waist down. A frightening prospect.

He left her there and climbed back up the wall.

"Ratboy, do you need help?"

Only the sound of crawling and digging answered him, and he began pushing more sand out of the way.

Ratboy appeared in the opening, looking so burned, bitten, and pitiful that Rashed assisted him without anger or rebuke. They had both failed to evade or destroy the hunter. Ratboy was not to blame this time.

"Climb onto my back," Rashed said. "I'll carry you down."

Forgoing the usual sarcastic comment, Ratboy quietly grasped Rashed's shoulders with blackened hands, and Rashed descended as quickly as he could to lay his thin comrade beside Teesha.

The sight of Teesha filled him with emotions he could not recognize or explain. Although only her hands and one shoulder were badly burned, the slash on her stomach looked deep and her life-force was leaking away into the sand. Yet she did not complain nor curse him.

"Stay here and be silent," he said. "I will return." He unsheathed his sword and dropped it beside Ratboy. "For protection."